


Never Let Go

by Redbirdblackdog



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Creepy Petyr Baelish, Ends Well Because Sansa Deserves the Best I Can Give Her, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Harry the Arse is a Jerk Boyfriend, Petyr Baelish is His Own Warning, Petyr Does a Little noncon touching, Sandor deserves a happy ending too, Sandor is a ghost, Sansa & Sandor are best friends, Sansa childhood and growing up, Very Bittersweet at Times, ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redbirdblackdog/pseuds/Redbirdblackdog
Summary: So he's a ghost, well Sandor's pretty sure he’s a ghost. It makes sense, at least as much sense as anything ever does. He’s stuck now, stuck in the house he grew up in… the house he died in. He's not sure if it's poetic or fucking tragic. Doesn't really matter though that's life, or rather death. Regardless it was a little house with a good bit of land, it was enough in life why wouldn't it be in death? It was lonely though, it took a while, maybe years for him to notice how lonely. The days had bled together. Then one day a family moved in. A woman and a little girl. So a small family. At first even their steps in the hall would ring in his ears for hours, but soon he got used to them.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61





	Never Let Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thecatthewall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecatthewall/gifts).



> So he's a ghost, well Sandor's pretty sure he’s a ghost. It makes sense, at least as much sense as anything ever does. He’s stuck now, stuck in the house he grew up in… the house he died in. He's not sure if it's poetic or fucking tragic. Doesn't really matter though that's life, or rather death. Regardless it was a little house with a good bit of land, it was enough in life why wouldn't it be in death? It was lonely though, it took a while, maybe years for him to notice how lonely. The days had bled together. Then one day a family moved in. A woman and a little girl. So a small family. At first even their steps in the hall would ring in his ears for hours, but soon he got used to them.  
…….

Sansa, that was the little girl's name. She couldn't remember the day she first saw him or the first time they spoke. He remembers though. This little tiny pipsqueak of a kid marches right up to him offering her tiny hand.  
"Hi, I'm Sansa," she said brightly. "What's your name?"  
"What?"  
"What's your name? It's not a hard question."  
"Sandor," he says slowly. Offering his hand to her out of instinct.  
She reaches for his hand and nothing. Well not nothing he gets a strange tickle on his fingertips.  
"That's weird," she volunteers. "Kinda warm… and tingly."  
"Uh yeah, you felt that? I can't really touch stuff, people I mean."  
"Are you a ghost?" She asks as her little brows pinch together.  
"Guess so," he shrugs. "Didn't come with instructions."  
She smiles brightly at him, "nice to meet you Sandor the ghost," saying his name slowly. "That's a nice name."  
"You can really see me?"  
"Yes," she chirps.  
That's strange, no one sees him. "And… you're not afraid?"  
"No," she then pauses. "Are you a bad ghost?"  
"No, not bad-bad at least."  
"Well then we should be friends," she replies.  
"Friends? Why?"  
"Well you're big, super big really," she holds her hands out wide like to imitate his size.. "Bet no one would mess with me when I'm with you."  
"But a… I don't think anyone else can see me," he argues.  
"I can see you fine," she answers. "I'd know you were there. I'd feel braver with you close by."  
"You would?"  
"Yes."  
"You're a little girl," he motions with his hands. "What have you got to be afraid of?"  
"Meanies," she answers like it's obvious.  
"Meanies?"  
"Mean girls, mean boys and mean dogs." She leans in and whispers like it's a secret, "and vampires. They're the super scary people who suck your blood till you die. Yuck."  
"So if I'm around you won't be afraid?"  
"No… can't help being afraid, I'm just a little girl."  
He's quiet for a minute and honestly fucking confused. "But…"  
"You can only be brave when you're afraid Papa used to say that."  
"Nah Little Bird, that's not…" he starts. Then thinking on it he stops, "damn it, that's right ain't it?"  
She nods back, "yup… papa was super smart. So will you do it?”  
“What?”  
“Will you be my friend? Help me be brave?"  
“Sure little bird.” Why the fuck not, he thinks to himself. 

Sansa seems to warm to him instantly. It’s strange at first, this little girl dogging his steps, but the joy she chirps was rather intoxicating. Anyways, what else did he have to do? No one else saw him, not even her mother. It’s strange because when he was alive, he was pretty hard to miss. He took the phrase ‘big scary fucker’ to a whole new level. Sansa didn’t seem to mind though.  
………

One afternoon he's sitting like usual in the chair just under the hall window, minding his own business.  
“Sandor come have tea with me,” Sansa offers.  
“Nah,” he grumbles around the corner.  
“Yes," she insists. "I have a chair for you right here.” Patting a tiny seat.  
He gets up and looks at the chair then back to the little girl. “I won't fit.”  
“Betcha could if you try,” she smiles up at him brightly. “Don't you like tea?”  
“Not really,” he grumbles. Fucking hells… why not? Like he has anything else to do.  
So he sits down on the tiny chair.  
Then Sansa with all the grace a five-year old can muster pours the tea from a flowered teapot into two tiny cups. “One lump or two?” she asks.  
“Lumps of what?”  
“I dunno, but ladies say it.” She moves a spoon over his cup like she's adding something to it. She brings the tiny cup to her lips, "mmmm, delicious."  
He leans down looking close at the cup. “There’s nothing in there," he complains.  
Sansa leans in close, “it's pretend silly.”  
“I'm not silly, you're silly,” he quips. "Silly Little Bird."  
She purses her lips and shakes her head shaking off the comment.  
"You got nothing to say?"  
Sansa looks up at him with annoyance, "if you don't have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all."  
He rolls his eyes.  
She rolls hers too copying him, but she tips her head in the process exaggerating the movement.  
“Oh your momma's gonna love that one.”  
“Really?” Sansa asks.  
“Oh yeah,” he answers laughing. He then raises his lip in a snarl.  
She copies him again.  
Her adorable little face in a mock snarl makes him laugh harder.  
She starts giggling too. “Oh Sandor, you're so funny. Now quiet and enjoy your tea.” 

Later that night he retreats to his chair and is surprised to see a fluffy pink pillow on it.  
He peeks his head back in her room. "What's the pillow for?"  
"You always sit over there, I want you to be comfy," she answers. "Do you need a blankie?"  
"Nah," he shakes his head thinking of this little girl caring for him.  
"Sandor?"  
"Yes Little Bird,"  
“Are you always here?  
“Seems so,” he shrugs.  
“Why?”  
“Who fucking knows?”  
“Ohhhh, you said a bad word,” she scolds.  
“And I'll do it again,” he mocks.  
"Sandor?"  
"Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"  
"Yes… but Sandor?"  
"What?" He grumbles in protest.  
"I'm glad you're here."  
"Me too," he whispers too low for her to hear.  
"Good night Sandor."  
"Good night Little Bird."  
………

He starts to really enjoy his time with her, more than he expects. It’s alway silly girly stuff but it's better than sulking in the corner. They play in the backyard, he will vanquish the dragon to save his little princess. She even made him a flower crown once so they could be princesses together. Yes he played princesses with her fuck off, she's fucking adorable you’d do it to. It didn't work of course, but it was funny as hell. Watching her try to perch the flower crown on his head and have it fall to the ground time and time again.  
That was the day though they found he could even move some things. He kind of knew that before, well he knew he could touch stuff. Like he could lean on the doorframe and he could sit on the couch. He could feel those things, but it was a sensation of just tingles. A strange and prickly sensation your brain can't quite believe. Like when your hand is asleep and it can almost feel. Heck last week her mom turned suddenly and walked right through him when he couldn't get out of the way. The cold tingle that gave him was creepy as fuck.  
Sansa was sprinkling flower petals over him declaring him the prince of beauty or some shit when he huffed out a laugh. The petals danced and swirled away from him. He was fascinated, and insisted she collect more petals and leaves to rain over his head so he could make them move. He quickly found if he focused he could push air out of his lungs enough he could make the leaves flutter with some consistency. And if he focused on his hands he could push them away too. Interesting, he thought. It became a bit of a game for them. Her giggling as she scoops and then throws leaves over him would've been quite the sight. 

One afternoon he finds her crying on the swings by the big tree in the back.  
"Why so glum Little Bird?" taking the swing next to her.  
She looks up at him. Her eyes are red, making her blue eyes even brighter. "They were mean to me… they kidnapped wolfie." Then with a sniff, "they're holding him h-h-hostage. Then they called me a baby."  
"Who?" He demands.  
"Asha and Th-Th-Theon," she sobs out with a new wave of tears. She wipes her eyes but more tears fall.  
"You want me to…" he makes a motion of slitting a throat across his neck with his finger.  
Sansa's eyebrow knit with thought, "what's that mean?"  
"I'll take 'em out."  
"Take them out where?" She sniffs back a tear, "like to dinner?"  
"Nah… out back to a shallow grave."  
"A grave? Like dead?"  
"Yup."  
"You can't kill my friends because they're mean to me?"  
"Why not?"  
"That makes you bad," she answers.  
"Who says?"  
"Momma says."  
"Momma's ain't always right. Are they even your friends if they're mean to you? Maybe they're just bad kids."  
"They are really annoying," Sansa concedes. "And rude. And stinky. And mean."  
Sandor nods back. Point made, he thinks.  
"But I still, please don’t hurt them," she says quietly.  
"How 'bout just a little?"  
"No," she scolds, stamping her foot.  
"Fine," he grumbles. "Whatever. They better not hurt you though."  
"Thank you Sandor," she blows him a kiss and skips off to pick flowers. Just like that everything's all better. "Come on Sandor," she calls over her shoulder.  
"Fucking hells," he breathes out. She's gonna melt his cold fucking heart.  
……..

He was always around. He had to watch out for her. He was there when she fell off her bike and scraped her knee. He never missed a tea party. He always stayed close when storms came, his low voice soothing her fears when the thunderstorms roared. But then that became part of the problem. Sandor was her best friend and her mother was starting to worry. 

"Now that you're almost ten," her mother says, "it's time to say goodbye to Sandor.”  
"But why?" Sansa seems confused, "he's my best friend."  
"Sandor's not real," her mother argues. "You need real friends."  
"He is so real," Sansa defends. She looks right at him begging for help.  
"He's just part of your imagination." Her mother's voice turns stern, "it's time to put away childish things."  
"But Sandor is real."  
"Stop being stupid," her mother scolds harshly.  
"I'm not stupid," Sansa counters.  
"What? Are you talking back to me?"  
He sees a fire light in her eyes. "Yes," she declares and raises her chin.  
"Go to your room young lady."  
Sansa turns on her heel and storms off.  
"And don't come out until you can admit that Sandor is just pretend." Her mother calls after her. "You can't stay a child forever."  
He stands there stock still in the hallway. Her mother still looks furious. He did this. Him just being here did this. If he was the one causing her pain… well he couldn't do that. He slowly goes up the stairs, he leans against the door frame. "Sansa," he feels his voice start to crack and he swallows. "Sansa… my Little Bird, I should go."  
"No, you can't," she pleads through the door.  
"Goodbye," and he turns away.  
"Sandor? Sandor? Don't leave," she pleads. "Please don't leave me."  
He doesn't answer but keeps on walking.  
"Please, please Sandor don't go. Don't leave me. Please, don't go."  
He rushes down the stairs, then quickly down the front steps. He's across the lawns and starts across the field, he finally drops to the ground beside the pond. It's the furthest place he can go, he slumps down against a small tree's trunk. There's a tightness in his chest, his mind is swimming. He buries his face in his hands, "she's better off without me, she's better off without me," he repeats it over and over like it can make it true.

Two weeks later is her birthday. It's strange he's never not been there but he catches glimpses in the window here and there before hiding away in the upstairs guest room.  
They're mean, those horrible girls her mother invited. Popular girls. They're vain and petty, teasing his Little Bird. Sansa tries so hard to be kind to them but it doesn’t help. When she's finally had enough and abandons her own party to escape to her room. He slumps down by her door listening to her softly cry. He wants to go to her, to do something. She's everything good and sweet he's ever known and there's nothing he can do. He's no good for her anymore. He's no good at all. 

It was bad. Bad for months. He nearly broke down more than once, but he had to be strong for her. He had to do what was right for her even if it hurt. 

Then it happens, she happens. Sansa walks out of her room and declares to the empty hall.  
“Sandor you are my best friend,” she takes a deep breath. “I made a new friend… her name is Jeyne, she is very nice.”  
He feels relief and dread, she truly doesn't need him anymore.  
“But Sandor… I still need you. Jeyne is my second best friend, but you will always be my bestest friend. Even if you hide from me and won't talk to me, you are my bestest friend forever. Even more," she pauses and takes a deep breath. "I love you Sandor… I do," he can't see her but he can hear the tremble in her voice. "You can’t stop me, you can ignore me… but you can’t make me stop.”  
He's still quiet. He doesn’t speak. He hides when he can. It’s breaking his heart, but he does it for her. 

It’s the hardest when she starts to doubt herself. She’ll talk to him, he listens, he always does… just out of view.  
“It's ok, at least it'll be ok. Sandor is gone, he's been gone a long time, he’ll come back. I think.” She pauses and looks around, “you're still here. I know it. I can feel you here, because... I just can. I know you're trying to do what's right, but this is right. Momma doesn’t understand. No one does. You're here for me, why can’t you see that? Why else would you be here?” Her voice starts to tremble, “Maybe I'm just crazy, maybe momma is right. What do I know anyway? Maybe I’m a stupid girl like momma says. Maybe you were just my imagination?"  
He feels his heart break for her. He hates that he makes her doubt herself. Words of encouragement are on her lips when instead she answers herself.  
“No,” she declares. “You are just stubborn. Well I can be stubborn too. I'm right you’ll see. You can’t ignore me forever.”  
He laughs quietly. She's probably right. He steps around the corner, “Little Bird…”  
“You're here,” she gasps.  
“I'm here… always been here.” he takes a breath, “I’ll always be here.”  
She smiles at him sweetly.  
“Friends?” he offers.  
“Yes... friends, best friends. Friends don't ignore each other though Sandor,” she scolds. She slides down the wall, leaning back against it and pats the space beside her.  
“That's on me. Maybe I'm a bit stubborn,” he argues. He takes a seat next to her.  
“Ain't that the truth.”  
……..

Sandor grumbles Gods he hates her fucking mother. She seems to think there's some fucking rush to make her a Lady. Fucking ridiculous, Sansa just turned thirteen… still a fucking child. He rolls his eyes, "proper little ladies learn an instrument," he mocks her mother in a higher than normal voice.  
Sansa tries but fails to suppress a laugh. "Piano probably won't be that bad," Sansa grumbles.  
"Don't lie to me. You fucking hate it. It's not ok, its fucking stupid. You wanted to dance, isn't dancing ladylike enough? Why can't she let you do what you want?"  
"Momma insists piano is important," she huffs. "It's not worth the fight."  
The doorbell rings and Sansa bounds to get it.  
Sandor cranes his neck to see the man at the door. "Fucking Hells," he growls. Pedo mustache and pointy little beard, that man’s a cunt if he ever saw one.  
"Hi, I'm Sansa," she holds out her hand. "And you are Mr Baelish, my piano instructor."  
"Yes," his eyes travel across Sansa's body slowly.  
Alarm bells start going off in Sandor's head. "Little Bird," he warns.  
The man holds out his hand, "please call me Petyr." When Sansa offers her hand he raises it to his lips pressing a kiss there. "Just as beautiful as your mother in her prime."  
Prime? Sandor's eyes widen, she's thirteen mother fucking years old. Who the fuck is this man? And how the fuck can he get him to leave. "Careful of creepy Pete, Little Bird."  
Sansa takes a step away and gives Sandor a half nod. "Uh, the piano is this way." She turns to lead him into the little parlor.  
Creepy Pete licks his lips as his eyes fall to her ass as she walks away. "So where is your mother?" He asks.  
"Careful," Sandor tells her. "Tell him she'll be back any minute."  
"Oh, she ran to the store," Sansa answers. "Be back in a minute." She sits on the bench of the piano.  
Creepy Pete sits there too, then scoots closure till their hips touch.  
Sandor growls under his breath. He moves to the window to be in Sansa's field of vision. He wants her to know he's there.  
"First lesson is proper hand placement," creepy Pete whispers. His hand goes over hers, tracing the line of her first finger to her wrist. He leans in to whisper in her ear, "lift your wrist here… like a puppet string is holding it up. Then here," he runs his finger down to her palm, “lift your palm like it's resting on a ball and curve your fingers to caress the keys."  
"What the fuck," Sandor growls.  
Sansa swallows and gives him a nervous look. "I-I don't really like to be touched."  
"Oh, there, there… just teaching. I must correct your posture, Sweetling." Petyr pushes off the bench and moves behind her. He places a hand on her shoulder holding it steady and pushes on her back, pushing her chest forward.  
Sandor sees his eyes focus on her breasts. "He's gotta stop Little Bird," Sandor growls.  
Petyr shifts his hand down her arms, just grazing the sides of her chest. "Graceful lines," he whispers in her ear.  
Sandor is seething. "You ok Little Bird?" His voice is shaky with rage.  
"No…" Sansa starts. She is trembling.  
"Beautiful," Petyr whispers.  
"No," Sansa shudders quietly.  
Petyr's hands slide down her sides as he leans in to push her hips forward with his and his hands linger on her hips.  
Sansa looks frozen with fear.  
Sandor sees red. "Hands off," he bellows like a crash of thunder. The lights flash bright and then snuff out. The floor and the windows shake. Petyr ends up with his ass on the floor, his eyes wide with fear.  
Sansa's moving now, sliding onto the floor she crawls to Sandor. "No, no, no…" falling from her lips.  
Petyr starts to shift to her, "Sansa… you misunderstand…"  
"Out," Sandor bellows again. He takes two steps forward blocking Sansa's view of Petyr. "Out," the whole house quakes.  
Petyr scrambles to his feet and nearly bowls Sansa's mother over at the door.  
"Petyr?" Catelyn questions. "What in the Gods..."  
Petyr doesn't spare her a glance as he flees.  
"Please no, please no." Sansa cries. She's huddled in the corner crying.  
"Little Bird," Sandor soothes. He is on his knees next to her as the lights come back on. "Little Bird… it's me."  
He can just hear her mumbling, "I'm ok, I'm ok… is he gone?"  
"LittleBird," Sandor says softly. "He's gone, he'll never touch you again."  
"Gone?" She whispers back. Sansa launches herself at him then and he swears for a moment he can feel the weight of her in his arms.  
Then Catelyn is there, "Sansa… what's wrong? You're scaring me… what's wrong?"  
He stands with them there. He strokes Sansa's hair and can just feel a whisper of a touch. He vows then, "I'll never let anyone hurt you or I’ll kill them."  
………..

The teens years are rough. He is not at all prepared to deal with a teenage girl. There is no way he was this level of crazy as a teenager… right? Fucking hells it was so long ago he can’t even remember. The clothes, the makeup the fucking hair. Boys, fucking testosterone laden peices of shit. Fucking hells. Thank Gods she had Jeyne too, he didn’t have to hear it all.  
“Wait, what are you jabbering about?”  
Sansa rolls her eyes, “I knew you weren't listening.”  
“Well if you didn’t jabber on about shit that bores the hell out of me I wouldn't fall asleep standing up.”  
“Oh, I'm boring?” She scoffs. “You and your World War II documentaries… that's a bore.”  
“It’s educational… Shit, you're trying to distract me aren't you?” He accuses. “You said boyfriend. I heard it. Explain yourself.”  
“I have a boyfriend.”  
"Oh a boyfriend… great," he says his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for elaborating.”  
"It’s, Harry."  
"The blonde one?" He shakes his head, "such a cunt."  
"You think everyone's a cunt,"  
"Well he is particularly cunt-ish. Mark my words that boy is an asshole in training."  
Sansa just rolls her eyes. "He's very handsome," she argues.  
He scoffs. "Cunt points. Probably spends hours moisturizing. Prick."  
"He says I'm pretty,"  
"Well he's not completely daft," he admits. "Don't let him sweet talk you out of your skirt."  
"Sandor," she scolds.  
"Sansa," he mocks back. "That guy's got one thing on his mind and it ain't your pretty face."  
"You think I'm pretty?" she asks.  
"You're fucking beautiful, don't let no one tell you different. But that fucker there is trouble."  
"Maybe I like trouble?"  
"Fucking hells," he scrubs his face with his hands. "You're on the pill right?"  
"Sandor," she scolds blushing bright red.  
"I'm just saying that sweet talking tosser is gonna try to get in your pants… don't give his baby batter a chance to take root."  
"I'm not going to have sex with him."  
“He know that? He might cancel on ya then,” Sandor argues.  
She scowls at him, “why do you have to be so hateful?” She storms off.  
“That went well,” he mutters. Fuck all that is going to happen isn’t it? Sansa will have boyfriends. Makeout dates. Sex… fucking hells. She’d be leaving soon too. Two more years and off to college. He had to stop looking at her like a kid, she was growing up, nah she’s nearly grown. He didn’t have any right to judge her. Maybe he could help? Help her navigate the male of the species, find her a decent one. That’s what friends do right?  
……...

Sandor’s just laying out in the sun on the lawn. He couldn’t really feel the heat of it but it was so fucking bright it felt good anyway.  
“So Sandor… what do you think?”  
Without even opening eyes, “skirt’s too short.”  
"It’s supposed to be short,” she answers with exasperation. “Anyways I was asking about the moves.”  
He raises a questioning eyebrow.  
“The dance moves,” she articulates real slow like for a toddler.  
“Doesn’t look hard,” he offers unimpressed.  
“Pfft… you can't do it,” she sasses back.  
“Why would I want to?”  
“Ha… I knew it. My little hound doggy can't do it. Are you scared?” She taunts. "Afraid you'll make a fool of yourself?"  
“I could do it if I wanted, but why the fuck would I want to?”  
Sansa starts making chicken noises.  
“What are you six? I thought we were past this shit.”  
“Guess not… chicken,” she starts flapping her arms like said chicken.  
He shakes his head. “Fucking hells,” he pushes off the lawn and stares down at her. “Show me what to fucking do.”  
“Yay!” She squeals. “So you sway to the right, then a half turn around, one kick and arms up… like this, then bring them back to center. Simple right.”  
He scowls back, “guess so.”  
“Okay on my three-count. One, two, three,” she does the moves effortlessly watching him the entire time. When they stop she's grinning like a fool. “Well that was literally the worst I’ve ever seen.”  
He just scowls back at her.  
She laughs, “Oh my Gods, how are you that terrible?”  
“Fuck this,” he starts stomping away.  
“Give me a S, Give me an A, Give me a N-D-O-R!!!! WHAT'S THAT SPELL!! SANDOR!!” She falls to her knees laughing.  
“Fucking fuckery,” he grumbles.  
“Oh come on. Don't run away." She starts skipping to catch up. "Come on it's a beautiful day let's enjoy it."  
He makes a motion like he's cracking his neck, then nods. "No more dancing?"  
"No," she twirls around once. "Better than pouting inside."  
"If you're gonna be mean, I'll just go inside." He gestures to the house with his thumb.  
"Gotcha," answers. "Don't be mean so hound doggy won't go pouting, got it."  
"Sansa… I fucking swear,"  
"Yes Sandor," she says all sugary-sweet and bats her lashes at him.  
"You're a fucking menace… a pest." He lowers himself onto the grass as she sits next to him.  
"You still love me," she says leaning toward him.  
"Yeah, to my own fucking peril a times."  
She points up a fluffy white cloud, "look that one looks like a chicken."  
"Why do I put up with your shit?"  
"Maybe you're my guardian angel," she looks at him seriously, then bursts out laughing.  
"Now that's fucking funny," he agrees laughing along.  
…..

"What are you doing?" Sandor asks.  
"Nothing," she answers.  
"Liar," he accuses. "You've been in here fifteen minutes and you're still using that thing-a-whatever there." Waving his hand at her.  
"The curling iron?" She answers, rolling her eyes. "You are around me all the time, how do you not know what it's called?"  
"Blissful ignorance I suppose," he answers. "I block out the stupid girly shit."  
"Denial."  
"Why are you," he motions with his hands, "curling? That is the question."  
"To be pretty," she offers.  
"You're already pretty," he counters. "You're deflecting."  
"Ugh, I should've never let you read my debate book."  
"Hindsight 20/20 Little Bird. What. Is. Up?"  
"Maybe you should just hang out in my room," she says sweetly. "You can watch the Punisher on my laptop again."  
"Are you offering me a bribe?"  
"No…"  
"Yes…" Sandor smarts back. "What the fuck is it?"  
"Promise not to be mad?"  
"Why would I do something stupid like that?"  
"Because you love me," she answers, fluttering her lashes.  
He looks at her unimpressed, "and I quote Sansa Snark… pleeeeease."  
She huffs, "you are ridiculous."  
"No you are ridiculous."  
"Stubborn, grouchy-ass man."  
"Silly Little Bird thinks she can charm her way out of anything."  
She narrows her eyes and points an accusing finger at him, "you will stay upstairs and out of my way."  
"Who's gonna make me?"  
"Me," and she stomps her foot.  
He rolls his eyes, "you and what army?"  
"You drive me insane,"  
"Maybe you're just crazy."  
"You're incorrigible."  
"You're difficult."  
"You're a pain in my ass."  
"You're… you' re, fuck. You won this round girlie." He starts to turn, then it hits him. He turns and stares down at her. "Where is your mother Little Bird?"  
"Oh, I don't know? Out?" She answers innocently, shrugging her shoulders.  
He nods back at her, "oh yeah? Where's your cunt boyfriend?"  
She pauses, "around."  
"Really? Huh, around here?"  
She seems to refocus on her hair.  
"Answer me," he growls.  
"No."  
He crosses his arms and stares at her. The minutes tick by, she continues to focus on her hair but with every sideways look she gives him, he sees her resolve wavering.  
"Fine," she admits. "Harry's going to come over and we are going to watch a movie without you."  
"Like fucks you are," he snaps.  
"You're not the boss of me," she whines.  
"Maybe I should be."  
"Asshole," she mumbles.  
"What?"  
"Well, you are acting like an asshole."  
"I'm just trying to protect you."  
"I don't need you," she snaps back. "Maybe I don't even want you around anymore."  
It feels like a slap in the face. “Fine you do whatever the fuck you want.”  
“I will,” she mocks.  
“Don’t come crying to me when fuck boy here shows his true colors.”  
“You are so hateful,” she hisses back.  
“I am what I am,” he growls. 

The evening starts just perfect. She made snacks and lemonade. They’re sitting on the couch as the movie starts. His arm is around her and it's all so good.  
“So your mom’s not here?” Harry asks.  
She rests her head on his shoulder. “No, she's not here right now.”  
“Perfect,” he answers. He pulls her closer with his arm that's already around her and their lips meet. It’s a gentle kiss at first, warm and lovely. She smiles into the kiss, but soon it turns heavy. His finger tip tracing up her thigh to just displace the hem of her skirt and back down again. He pushes his tongue into her mouth and it’s all she can do to keep up. Then it's too much, she can barely breathe. His hand slides up her thigh and she starts to try to squirm away. She squeezes her legs together and her hand comes down to stop his hand on her leg.  
“Come on Sansa, don't act like you don't want it,” he moves his hand to take a firm hold of her jaw, but softens his kisses some. “Come on don’t you love me? I love you babe.”  
“You do?”  
“Of course, you're my girl.” He smiles at her and strokes her cheek. “Come on show me you love me too.” His hand falls to her waist and up under her shirt.  
“Harry… I don't know if we should,” she stutters.  
“Everyone is doing it.” He palms her breast and it does feel good. “We’ve been dating a month, it's time for more. I want more than just touching your tits.”  
Maybe this is ok. She should trust him. He is her boyfriend, she thinks.  
“Come on Sansa, don't be a prude,” he grumbles.  
“Ok,” she concedes. He starts to grope at her breast again, it's ok. Then he pinches her nipple. “No,” squeaks slapping his hand away.  
“Oh, Just shut up and enjoy it,” Harry growls.  
“No, I said no,” with a tremble to her voice. “No,“ she says again. She’s feeling pushed, trapped.  
“Fine,” he snaps. He lets go of her breast and starts to unzip his pants.  
“What are you doing?” She asks.  
“You can’t leave your boyfriend like this… at least blow me.”  
“What? No.”  
“Myranda would,” he mocks. “You want a boyfriend or not?”  
“I… I…”  
“Don’t be stupid Sansa,” he snaps.  
“I’m not stupid,” she whispers unsure.  
“Just do it,” he argues.  
“No,” she shouts and pushes him away.  
Harry falls off the couch and looks up at her in shock. “You fucking push me off the couch?” He growls. “You bitch.”  
He just gets upright when all the lights in the house go out. There’s only some dim evening light seeping through the windows casting her in yellow glow. There’s a strange rumble like thunder that seems to shake through the house.  
“I’m not a bitch,” she growls. “I’m not stupid. And I’m not your girlfriend… not anymore.”  
He sneers at her, “you can't dump me… I'm dumping you. I’ll tell everyone at school what a tease Sansa Stark is.” Then a vengeful smile crosses his face, “no, not that. I’ll tell them all you're a whore. I’ll tell them I’ve been fucking you for months and now you're just a used up cunt now.” With that Harry storms out the door.  
Sansa races to her room, slamming the door behind her. 

Sandor comes and sits outside her bedroom door. "That boy was a cunt and…"  
Through the door he can hear her voice tremble. "I'm tired of all the cunts, can you just stop. Do you always have to cunt up everything?"  
Sandor growls, "When good men hear 'stop' or they stop. They hear 'no', they stop. Right fucking away, immediately. If they aren't a… 'c u next Tuesday' at least. Good men want their girl happy and cared for, protected. They'd do anything to spare her tears. Any-fucking-thing. Wait, why the fuck has your mother never told you this?"  
"Well she says you're supposed to make your man happy."  
"Fuck that. HE should make YOU happy, 'cause that will make him happy. Fucking cunts."  
She cracks open the door and looks down at him tapping the door frame impatiently.  
"What? It's the truth. I'm no fucking liar," he grumbles.  
She sniffs nodding, "you're a good man Sandor."  
He scoffs.  
"You are, you'd never hurt me."  
"I'll never let anyone hurt you… or I'll kill 'um."  
"Sandor," she scolds.  
He blows out a breath and scratches his beard. "I will, you just try and stop me."  
"Sandor…"  
"What are they gonna do… execute me?" He starts to chuckle.  
"What if they take you away from me?" she asks. "What if whoever lets you stay here with me tries to send you away? Tear us apart? I don't want that. I want to be with you forever. So no killing people."  
"Fine," he grumbles unenthusiastically.  
"Will you stay? Please," she whines.  
"'Course I'll stay."  
She climbs into her bed, tucking her blanket up to her chin. He slides down to the floor, leaning back against her bed.  
"I love you Sandor," she whispers as she starts to doze.  
"I know, love you too," he answers quietly.  
…...

The boys keep calling. Sandor watches her bloom from a pretty girl into a beautiful woman. They weren't all bad, there were good guys too. There was Dickon Tarly, he was young and strong, the quiet type. He had hearts in his eyes everytime he looked her way. Sandor hated him but didnt know why. Sansa never really gave him a chance. Probably too fucking sweet.  
Next was Joffrey Baratheon, a complete tosser in every way. She’d come home from their second date with a split lip. Sandor would fucking kill him if he ever got his hands on him.  
Then there was Raymond Waynwood. He was a cocky fucker, but a good enough guy. He brought her flowers and some outrageous proposal to prom that made Sansa blush. She looked like a fucking princess the night of prom. Ray was a good one. Sandor thought he might be the one who’d truly steal his Little Bird away. It all broke off very suddenly that summer. Ray was headed off to College half the country away, he’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever come home. She was so brave, gave him a kiss goodbye and wave from the porch with tears in her eyes.  
Sandor just reassured her she'd be ok. There were more fish in the sea. She just gave him a weak smile and walked slowly to her room. She didn’t come out for two days and listening to her cry through the door broke his heart too.  
When Sansa finally emerged she said she was fine, but he could see her faith in love had faltered. She looked pale and stiff. She just shrugged saying she'd be ok, she’d just wait for her one true knight. Sandor knew she was strong and she’d find love. Sandor laughed, he never cared for Raymond either.  
She dates some that last year of school, but never let them in. Two three dates and they all faded away.  
“You ok Little Bird?”  
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”  
“You sure?”  
“Ain’t going to die from being a bit lovesick.”  
“You’ll find someone I'm sure, probably when you least expect it.” He offers uncharacteristic optimism.  
“I know,” she answers softly. “I know love is real and worth waiting for."  
“Life ain't perfect though,” he answers. “Life’s not a song.”  
"All songs start somewhere," she answers.  
He just grumbles to himself, "you deserve a song."  
…….

Sansa heads off to college. It’s bittersweet at best. She’ll be hours and away starting a new life far from him. He knows she’ll be fine… she's smart and strong. But life is hard. He won’t be there to protect her either. He’ll be here waiting for her to come back. They say goodbye the night before she leaves. They sat against her bed and talk till far too late, probably won't speak again for a while. There are no phone calls, emails or letters in their future, just silence till she returns. That's all he’ll get and it’ll be enough, because it has to be. After she goes to bed he stays at her bedside longer, he feels a tightness in his chest… he’s losing her. He pushes it aside though… she’ll finally be able to fly. She’ll be fine. She’ll be fine without him. 

He watches from the window as the others say their goodbyes, no moments for a goodbye for a ghost. She does look up at him in the window and offers a slow wave. He’ll miss her. She’ll miss him too, but she’ll be fine. Him, he’s not so sure. Then she’s gone. He continues to look out the window, the seasons will change before he sees her again… maybe more than one. He has to let go.  
…...

She’s not home till Christmas. Four days, that's what her mother said on the phone. That's all he gets. He hears the car down the drive and rushes outside. Her car skids to a stop and maybe he should have harped on her more about how to drive in the snow. Her eyes light up when she sees him, but then her mother is there… and she has to hug the real person… right? Sansa smiles at him over her mother's shoulder and mouths a ‘hello.’  
“Hi Little Bird,” he says softly. “Long time no see.”  
She smiles back… but her attention is pulled back to her mother who’s talking quickly. Their arms go around each other as her mother ushers Sansa inside and out of the cold. Sansa glances one more time over her shoulder at him, then she's gone.  
What did he expect? He’s not fucking sure. He looks down at the snow at his feet, it's perfect and undisturbed… the snow doesn’t even believe he's real. He stalks off to the back, he just needs a minute. He sits on the swing and watches the winter sun slowly fall from the sky. He hears the back door slam and the crush of snow as she makes her way to him.  
“Why didn’t you come inside?” she asks. She’s wrapped in a blanket and takes the swing next to him.  
“I can wait,” he mumbles without turning to her.  
“Are you mad at me?” she asks slowly.  
“Nah, Little Bird,” he turns and offers her a small smile. “Just miss you is all.”  
She nods back like she's not sure she believes him.  
“So how is school?” He asks, “how’s life?”  
“Good,” she answers simply.  
“Used to be I couldn’t shut you up,” he jokes.  
“Things change,” she offers.  
“Preaching to the fucking choir,” he rumbles back. “Come on, tell me about your exciting college life. Never went myself, let me live vicariously through you.”  
“Well… if you really want to know.”  
“I do,” he answers, “I really do.”  
She goes on to tell him. About her classes, her strange roommate she thinks he'd like. The food, which is awful. Then it's boys, he's her best friend, honor bound to listen apparently. They must talk for an hour or more. Next thing he knows she's complaining her toes are numb and they walk back to the house.  
“I missed you so much Sandor, I wish you could come. It’d be better with you there.”  
He nods back, “It’s better with you here too, but you do your thing. I'll always be here.”  
They chat in her room a bit too, just like always. She tucked into her chin and he's just leaning against her bed. She’s asleep far too soon for his liking, but it's expected with the excitement of the day.  
It gets worse after that, other people trying to steal a moment from her. He gets a few too, but she's gone again far too soon. She doesn’t make it home much that summer. A boyfriend down south and promises of a long hot summer keeping her away. The next Christmas the boyfriend is there too, her mother thinks he's the one. They sleep in her room and Sandor spends more and more time on the swing. Sansa seeks him out more than once. Does he like her boyfriend? He answers of course he does, he's a good man, but hurts more then he expects. The man seems soft though, how will he protect Sansa? How can he care for her? Can he love her enough? She's soon gone again and the ache in Sandor’s chest is getting worse.  
The man doesnt last though. He heard her mother on the phone with her the day it ended, trying to soothe her broken hearted daughter. There’s a spark of hope in his heart. He truly is hateful, how could he ever wish her to be hurting. He spends three days, maybe more, on the far side of the property alone… he's not even sure why.  
……

The next time she comes home it's different. The first afternoon is the same as always, a long talk with her mother in the kitchen. Then she seeks him out. She finds him on the old swing like always. They catch up a bit, but it turns into more.  
"Sandor… were you married?"  
"No."  
"Were you ever in love?"  
"I'm not sure…"  
"I've heard it's hard to find," she offers, kicking her feet.  
He shakes his head, "not for you Little Bird, you're easy to love."  
"You think so?"  
"Yeah, you’ll find true love don’t give up."  
"But they have to love me back too?"  
"Yup," he nods.  
"That's what makes it hard… right?"  
"Yeah, Little Bird. That’s hard, loving someone who doesn't love you."  
"I'm glad you're here, I couldn't do this without you."  
"Course you can, you're stronger than you look."  
"Guess so. What if I find them and they don’t love me?”  
“No one's that stupid.”  
“Do you love me Sandor?” She asks.  
He scoffs, “‘Course I do, I’m not stupid.”  
“I love you too,” she answers.  
They both are quiet a while just swaying gently.  
“When I’m done with school, I’m coming home to live here with you.”  
“Nah, that's not what you want,” he grumbles.  
“It is,” she answers confidently. “I want to be here with you.”  
“You can't stay here, you have a life to live,” he argues.  
“You are my life. I love you.”  
“That’s not funny.”  
“It’s true.”  
“Doesn’t matter though,” he admits, his heart breaking.  
“I wish you could hold me, I wish I could feel you.”  
He groans, “I know Little Bird, I wish that too. It doesn’t work like that.”  
She stops swinging and stands, moving in front of him. “What if it can work? I’ve felt you before.”  
“What are you chirpin’ about now?”  
The air is heavy as his eyes meet hers.  
Then she finally speaks. "You are my soulmate. I know it doesn't make any sense, but I know it's true. That's why you're here with me, don't think I can't see it."  
He can feel a faint tingle as she brings her hand up, like to cup his cheek. He raises his hand to her cheek. He swears he can feel warmth for a moment and the shift of her hair.  
"Sandor I feel you."  
The touch is so light, it's nothing more than a breath against skin. It feels like hope though. “I love you Little Bird, never doubt it,” he whispers. “But this can never be. It can never be enough. I could never give you enough. I could never love you like you should be loved.” He stands then and turns away. “You should go, fly away Little Bird.”  
“I love you,” she argues. “I do. I will. And you'll see.”

She leaves a few days later. He avoids her the best he can, but she knows him as well as he knows her. They argue again, he won’t have her waste her life on him. She refuses to abandon him, she yells back. It’s love she declares, he can’t deny it. Even though it shouldn’t be. It’s more of the same the next time too. More declarations of love and more torture when she leaves. It goes on until one night drowning in his own pain he lashes out. He watches her drive away that morning, he wonders if she’ll ever be back. He hopes she comes back, while praying she doesn’t.  
……..

She returns though. Through a winter storm she appears like a fucking flame in the stark white. How could he not love her?  
His hand goes to cover his face, "Sansa go live your life. You have to stop coming back here."  
"I don't want to. Nobody's ever been as good to me as you," she begs. “No one’s ever loved me like you do.”  
"That isn't how it works," he's trying, he really is.  
"It could," she offers, stepping closer to him. “I love you and you love me.”  
"No," he snaps. "I won't do that to you. I won't."  
"It's not your choice."  
"You say I'm a good man…"  
"The best," she argues.  
"What kind of man would I be if I let that happen? If I stole you away from the world? Stole everything away from you. Selfish that's all I'd be.”  
"I'm selfish," she answers. "I want you… at any cost."  
"I can't let you do that, I won’t," he reaches for her. He focuses all his strength for that moment and he can just barely feel the warmth of her cheek against his fingertips. “That’s all I can give you, it's not enough.”  
“It is,” she answers hopefully.  
“No,” he growls. “Go back to school Little Bird, find a man… find love. I’m just a ghost, trapped where I don't belong, I don't want you trapped too. What are you hoping for? Living as a spinster, a cat woman married to a ghost. You deserve more, you deserve everything. I’ll burn the house to the ground before I let you throw your life away.”  
“I love you,” she whispers, “I do.”  
He shakes his head. He won't do it, he loves her too much. To steal her life, the warmth of the world from her. He won’t do it. “Goodbye,” he whispers, he turns and walks away.  
"Sandor," he hears her call.  
He just walks faster. His heart begs him to turn, but he wont. He will not steal her from life. She’ll find love without him, what man wouldn’t love her? Maybe she'll be back one day… if he waits. If he waits long enough. She'll be old and gray, maybe she'll come back. He'd love her still, he knows it. He can't stop it. Maybe if he's there, if he’s there at the end he can follow her to the afterlife. The one where they could be together. He can still have hope. He starts to cross the ice, the one place she can’t follow.  
"Sandor," she cries with a trembling voice.  
He hears her closer again.  
“Sandor…”  
He turns in a panic. "No, Sansa no." He starts to run to her then he hears it… the crack of the ice. And like that she's gone.  
He scrambles to the break in the ice. He dives to his knees reaching through the hole. It's hopeless though… he plunges his hands into the water and doesn't even feel a chill. It's like there's nothing there. Like she was never there. He tries he does, reaching his arm and his shoulder through the gap but… nothing.  
This can't be how it ends. She is a love song. A fairytale. She deserves more. She deserves love and life he pleads.  
The ice starts to harden again but he's frozen in place. He's on his knees, head in his hands as he chokes out a sob. She's lost… gone. He's lost now too. He has nothing. He swears he can feel the tears warm on his face. Maybe the Gods will give him that at least, grant him his grief.  
"Sandor."  
He stops still, more afraid then he’s been in years.  
"Sandor."  
It's her. He turns slowly, still on his knees. She's there, pretty as an autumn sunset. She's whole and standing before him. He's in shock, in grief he's sure. He reaches for her, afraid she's just a dream. Both her hands close around his… and it's warm so fucking warm. His other arm snakes around her body pulling her close. His cheek feels warm and firm against her belly. She presses a soft kiss to his hand. Soft and warm, he could feel it. He's never felt so warm.  
"Sansa," he whispers so confused.  
"I'm here, I'm here with you," she soothes. She pulls at her hands, the left escapes but his hand catches the right.  
"Sansa," he whispers again.  
Her left hand finds his cheek and she leans down and presses a soft sweet kiss to his lips. "I'm here Sandor, I'm here with you now."  
"Sansa," it's all he can say.  
"I have you now," she answers. "And I'll never let you go."  
His arms wrap around her tightly, he stands in one motion, their bodies press close. He lifts her off the ground. She's here in his arms. "I’ll never let go," he promises.  
She answers with a kiss, then another and another and as it deepens it ends with a blinding light…

**Author's Note:**

> So this is definitely the brain child of Thecatthewall. She was lovely enough to suggest the prompt then to help me with a outline when I got stuck. I just filled in the blanks. Might have changed a few things.


End file.
